


Precipice

by chaomancy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, I'm Sorry, first fic so idk what i'm doing, massive TFA spoilers ahead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 13:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5587915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaomancy/pseuds/chaomancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bridge is cold, and the hope in his father's eyes is the same as it had been so many years ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Precipice

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based on some wonderful [art](http://inimeitiel.tumblr.com/post/135731196887/denial-phase-over-make-other-people-feel-bad-to) by Inimeitiel! Thanks so much to her for letting me borrow the idea <3
> 
> Also, as I said in the tags this is my first fic so I would really appreciate feedback if you have the time to give it!

The bridge is cold, and the hope in his father's eyes is the same as it had been so many years ago.

He remembers being so much smaller, when a wooden stick was good enough to be a shining blue lightsaber in his five-year-old hands. The memory shudders through him in light of what he must do.

The soft, carpeted floor, the sound of tiny feet creeping across it. The war cry as the imaginary lightsaber is brought down on his father's leg.

His father steps out of reach of the stick and crouches down to look at him. "What's this, Ben?"

"It's my lightsaber," he brandishes the stick in the same way that he's seen his Uncle Luke do. "See?"

He pounces, giggling, the wooden stick pointed at his father's chest.

"No! Oh no!" his father says theatrically, as he rolls onto his back. "Killed by no less than my own son!"

Ben huffs, "No Daddy, you can die better!" He repositions the stick, "Die better, please?" He giggles again as his father lolls his head to the side, tongue hanging out. It barely lasts for a second before his father's grin is back. "Hey!" Ben says, just as his father sits up and sweeps him into a tight hug.

It's different now. There is no wooden sword, only the cool metal of his sabre's hilt in his gloved hands.

"Ben," his father says.

He grasps tightly at the rage that the name conjures up in his chest. Nostalgia and sadness will do nothing but pull him back to the light, he knows. He squashes the emotions flat and focuses on the hatred slowly building under his heartbeat.

The hope in his father's eyes is like a needle driving itself further and further into his chest. He holds the pain and twists until he feels the dark side in his throat. He can't do this. Why was it so easy all those years ago? Why can't he do it now, for real? _You can't do this. You're too weak. You will never live up to your grandfather's name._

"Will you help me?" he asks his father. He can feel the light curling in his lungs. _No_.

"Yes. Anything," his father promises.

 _Do it now._ His gut coils and knots around itself. The weapon in his hands is not a wooden sword. It's all too real. The destruction he's wrought with it will be permanent. He can't do this.

It's suspended between them both for an instant. He can feel the button just under his palm. _It will be easy, I promise_. That's a lie.

It's enough though. _It will be easy_ , he tells himself, and watches the hope sputter out of his father's eyes, as the blade ignites through his chest.

 _Killed by no less than his own son_.

"Thank you," Kylo Ren says, and watches Han Solo fall into the abyss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking the time to read my stuff, I really appreciate it! ily


End file.
